Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Even more down to earth with a bump (11)

Continuing my record of Sofia Faith's pregnancy

I began this week of pregnancy in a tent for two nights. Interesting! Honestly I was fine - but the day we packed the camp up, we also flew to Spain. 

Not doing things by half ever; we arrived at Alicante airport at midnight. I had a slight moment when I saw the car rental company's child seat, but decided to ignore the fact that it looked like something my mum had once strapped me in almost forty years earlier. 

I let the tension fall away once Esme fell asleep. All at once we were on the open road, and Simon and I were holding hands, heading to our apartment aware of a whole ten days of being out of reach. My idea of bliss.

Understandably I was whacked for a couple of days, but I soon enjoyed a heavenly time, resting and relaxing throughout. Honestly, this pregnancy is wonderful...  albeit for the heartburn!

You know, you never realise how much you need a holiday until you get one. And ours continued through the first part of this week; super. And then we got home. And all hell broke lose. 

Esme took the words right out of my mouth, saying, "I don't want to be here, I want to be in Spain." Esme was always very eloquent and clever at describing exactly what she felt. Even at not quite three. Anyway, Esme was home, and in the space of a moment, she became hard bloody work. 

The first day back, for whatever reason, she suddenly decided to bolt up the road. Not listening to my shouts for her to stop, she ran faster and further away, laughing as she went. 

I gave chase of course, clumsily running as best I could to catch up. I'm massive though; so cumbersome. And running is not something I'm great at anyway. (Simon laughs out loud whenever I run). I caught her; dragged her home; sat her on the naughty step. She cried. I cried. She hated it. I hated it. But I had to reinforce that she could never do that again.

The next morning I realised I was bleeding. Of course, the run was responsible. Not surprisingly. In all honesty, I'm amazed it didn't result in labour. Of course the bleed meant I was back to hospital. Back for more Anti-d. MORE Anti-d. The words of my very first midwife were on replay in my head... "I have to remind you that Anti-d is a blood product. But it is human blood, not animal. It is from the U.S.A. And is not from cows." Question: As the needle invaded,  I pondered yet again; would my unborn child eventually learn to talk with an American accent?

Fortunately, a much needed and relatively peaceful week, albeit one where chronic heartburn ate away from within.

The only notable thing this week, are the middle of the night, wake me up, ouch! got to stand and stretch immediately, leg cramps. Goodness, I remember having those lots with Esme's pregnancy, but this is a first for night cramps, this entire baby baking. 

To add to the leg cramps, Braxton Hicks and fanny cramps settled in this week. Both are strong enough to wake me up. Isn't thirty-three weeks pregnant early for those? I must actually look at a book. 

(You read each day of your first pregnancy and know exactly what's going on and where you are at. With subsequent pregnancies, you never do).

My bump is huge. People want to touch it. People do. Why is it that complete strangers, have no qualms in placing hands upon the swollen belly of a mum to be... when they don't even bloody well know you? Madness. My bump is so huge, perhaps they think it comes with an unspoken invite. Yet, if I turn around, you would never know I was up the duff. If one more person has a feel, I may have to start walking backwards?!

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